


I Got You

by Muzik3



Series: Scomiche Oneshots [1]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Flu, I guess it could gross people out a little, Illness, M/M, Vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 16:18:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9279626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muzik3/pseuds/Muzik3
Summary: Mitch is not feeling too good.





	

"Morning," Scott mumbled groggily as he made his way through the kitchen, ready to get himself some breakfast. Though he tried, mornings were never easy for him. And by the looks of it, they weren't treating Mitch that well either.

Mitch sat on a stool at the breakfast area of their kitchen counter and had buried his face in between his arms, clearly not ready to face the day. He moaned in response.

"Did you get coffee," Scott said, his monotone morning voice making it sound more like a statement rather than a question. Another soft moan came from Mitch's mouth, not really giving an answer at all. Scott looked around. The kitchen hadn't been touched since he cleaned it up the day before, so he assumed that was a no. He sighed and put himself to work, deciding to treat himself today and putting fresh beans in the coffee machine. Fresh ground coffee would probably make his morning a little better. And Mitch's probably too.

As he continued getting a bowl for his cereal and the machine started grinding the beans, Mitch moaned again, a little louder this time.

"Make it stop, it's too loud," he whined, his voice muffled by his sweater sleeve.

"Are you feeling ok?" Scott asked, concerned, setting the box of cereal on the counter and turning around to face Mitch.

"Everything is too bright and too loud," Mitch answered, lifting his head up a little. His voice didn't just sound like a morning voice, it was more croaky, as if he had been screaming at some concert the night before. "I think I might be ill."

"You sound like it." Scott put back the cereal and the milk he had gotten in the meantime and brought his bowl over to Mitch. "Do you want me to get you anything?"

"Coffee will probably help. I might get some Advil later if it doesn't. We have that thing today, right?"

"Yeah. Make sure to eat something too." Scott took a spoonful of cereal.

"Yeah yeah," Mitch answered, and laid his head back down. Scott quietly continued eating his breakfast, watching Mitch from the corner of his eye. He really couldn't get sick now, they were supposed to leave for Japan in just a couple days. There were concerts to do, places to go. The coffee machine beeped and Scott stood up, bringing his empty bowl over to the sink, then grabbing the two mugs full of coffee.

"Here you go," he said softly, placing the blue one on the counter. "I'll be taking a shower, try to get yourself together, okay?" Another soft moan was his answer.

About fifteen minutes later he came back into the kitchen. Mitch sat in the same place, but he had obviously moved, as the counter now hosted an empty mug and a plate with some leftover crumbs.

"Feeling better yet?"

"No," Mitch answered, obviously annoyed. "I tried eating some of that gluten-free toast you got me the other day but now I'm even more nauseous. And my head still hurts." Scott saw his chest expand as he drew a deep breath. Then suddenly he scrambled and sat up straight. "Oh God I'm gonna -" Mitch stood up and was obviously trying to make his way to the bathroom, but the sudden movement caused him to lose some of his balance. He gripped the counter to stay up, but lost critical time doing that and couldn't make it to the toilet bowl before he doubled over and emptied the contents of his stomach on the hardwood floor. Scott backed up in initial disgust, but then gathered himself together quickly and rushed to Mitch's side.

"You're going to bed right now," he stated sternly, steering Mitch away from the kitchen and into his bedroom. Mitch was shaking as Scott held his shoulders, guiding him through the hall.

"I'm so sorry, that was disgusting," Mitch whimpered weakly, tearing up from sheer exhaustion. "Let me clean it up first - "

"No I'll get it, it's okay, you go lay in bed," Scott answered, pushing Mitch towards his bed. "Here, go on, I'll get you some water and pain killers." Mitch slid into bed as Scott exited his room. A few minutes later he helped Mitch sit up to take the pills and a good gulp of water. "Now don't move. I'm gonna clean up and I'll check on you after that, okay? Try to sleep some more." Mitch lay back down and closed his eyes, nodding slightly and giving into his fatigue.

Scott reluctantly walked back into the kitchen, trying not to gag at the sight of the vomit splattered all over the floor. He took a deep breath and shook his disgust off him. Mitch was ill, he needed him. He could handle a little vomit. Not like it never happened before. Besides, there were more times that Mitch had had to clean up his vomit than the other way around. And that wasn't even because he had been ill; it was always because he had drunk too much. Mitch never complained about it. Aside from maybe that one time his vomit had splattered onto the shoes he was wearing.

Thoughts kept running through his head and before he realized, the kitchen had been cleaned. That dirty mop wasn't going anywhere but in the trash, though. He made a mental note to buy a new one, then washed his hands and walked back to Mitch's room.

"Mitchy?" he whispered, peeking around the door. Mitch had his back turned towards the door. Scott quietly made his way into his room, and sat on his bed. Mitch moaned softly, letting him know he was awake. "I'll call off the appointment. You're not going anywhere today."

"Thanks babe," Mitch slurred softly, clearly falling asleep. "My head hurts so much." He sighed deeply and let out a soft sob. Scott moved a little closer and stretched out his hand, softly caressing the bald head peeking out from under the covers. The touch was welcomed, as he saw Mitch's tensed body slowly letting go. His breathing evened out and slowed down as Scott kept caressing Mitch's head, softly massaging his skull. After a little while, Mitch seemed to have fallen asleep and Scott carefully withdrew his hand. He made to stand up, when Mitch moaned softly.

"Please stay. That felt really nice." His voice was small and he was mumbling more than anything, but Scott could make out what his best friend said at all times and in any situation. He smiled.

"Okay. Let me get comfortable." He sat back on the bed, now resting his back against the headboard, while Mitch lay on his side with his back toward him. The movement caused a slight stir and Mitch frowned a little bit as Scott was trying to get comfortable, but that frown slid from his face as soon as he felt Scott's hand on his head again. "Is that better?" Scott asked softly.

"Yeah. Thanks for having my back."

"Always, babe. I got you."


End file.
